Summer Cleaning
by REDskies
Summary: Lithuania just wants to clean the house. Poland just wants to do anything else but. Poland wins in the end. Pure, undiluted fluff!


**Title:** Summer Cleaning  
**Author:** Tokene  
**Rating/Warnings:** T? A little harmless kissing and innuendo.  
**Pairing(s):** Lithuania/Poland. Blink-and-you'll-miss-it Canada/Ukraine.  
**Prompt:** "Cleaning the house together, Lithuania/Poland"  
**Notes:** Modern-day setting, where Lithuania and Poland live together. 3.1k words of pure fluff. 

Lithuania set the two buckets down with a decisive _thonk_, causing water to splash out of the blue one, right onto Poland's cotton wads. The other pail, filled with cleaning detergents, cloths, wood varnish, a mop, some one-use anti-bacterial wipes, nearly upset Poland's open bottle of nail polish.

_Oops. Maybe I didn't need to make such loud statement..._

Scrambling to right the glass bottle, Lithuania could almost _see_ the chiding words at the tip of Poland's tongue when-

When he sighted the bottle of nail-polish remover in the bucket.

"Oh!" Grinning, the blond reached over to pluck the clear bottle out of the red pail. "Liet, if you wanted the stuff you totally could have told me. I was looking for it all morning! I mean, it's hard enough painting without cotton buds to-"

"FELIKS!"

The man in questioned coolly looked up from his toenails (purple today) at Lithuania who, during his best friend's rambling about the difficulties of painting toe nails (which frankly, he doubted, since the guy had been using the stuff since it was first introduced), decided that the twin _thonks_ produced by the two buckets were in no way loud enough. Not for Poland, at least.

"Geez Liet, you didn't have to yell. So," looking back down on his left foot, Poland started painting his second toe. "What's up?"

Cue the long-suffering sigh.

"No more putting it off Poland, we're doing it today," Toris frowned, crossing his arms in an attempt to look more stern. Not that it ever helped in the past, but you can't blame a guy for trying right?

"But what about-"

"We just had lunch, so you can't try that."

"... Then I have a-"

"I just checked with you last night, remember? You said you didn't have any meetings or appointments today."

"But my nails-"

"-Will still be there after we do the spring cleaning."

Pouting, Poland set the brush back into the pot of varnish. "But _Lieeeet_," he whined, "it's not even _spring_!"

Grinning, Lithuania leaned down to answer the expected protest. "It's _summer_, Feliks. Which just shows how long we've delayed this for."

After a long pause, Poland grudgingly extended his hand, asking to be pulled up to a standing position, still pouting. "Fine. Let me just get changed. And," he added, swinging around in the doorway, grinning, "That means that you'll cook tonight. _And_ that we'll make hm, _appropriate_ use of the new, clean bed, 'kay Liet?"

Smiling, Toris let Feliks' laughing tone ring in his ears as he got to work cleaning up the bottles of nail polish the blond had left behind. It's not like he minded doing _either_ of Poland's little "punishments" anyway (or that they didn't _always_ do both, for that matter).

"You know Poland, I don't think that's really appropriate attire for cleaning the house...?" Lithuania commented, leaning against the fridge.

"What, really? I mean, _maybe_ the skirt but," Poland lifted up a few layers of the tiered, green skirt for inspection, frowning at his thin, white top at the same time "I like it. It totally has this wench-y feel to it, y'know? Pretty hot. I mean I could probably even get _England_ wearing this, with his little thing for pirates and all," he grinned.

Lithuania just smiled defeatedly, tying his hair back into a ponytail. By now, he thought to himself, he should have known better than to question Poland on his clothes. If he wanted to, he could probably lead a revolution in a French-maid dress and come out of it only complaining about a chipped nail. If he wanted to clean in a er, "wench-like" skirt and blouse, he'd do it.

"So! What are we doing in here? Maybe we could whip up a batch of _Faworki_? I mean, I'm totally in the mood for something sweet-"

"Cleaning, Feliks, remember?" Lithuania idly reminded, wetting two cloths and tossing one over his shoulder to his friend.

Poland grinned at the back of the brunette's head, accepting temporary defeat. It was just what Lithuania did, when Poland veered too far off course. It was comfortable, expected and routine, as it always had been.

"So I just, like, clean anything I see? 'Cause it all looks pretty clean to me."

"Hmm well, I was planning on cleaning out the cupboards and their tops. I thought clearing out the things beneath the sinks and bench-tops would be a good idea as well, throwing out old pans and stuff. Then maybe we could just mop the floor and move on?"

"Mmkay then I'll clean the tops of stuff!" Poland declared, dragging one of the wooden chairs up to the cabinets above the sinks.

"Right, because you'd want the easiest job," teased Lithuania, getting started on the storage areas below the sinks.

"Oh, well, I don't know really," sang Poland, sweeping the collected dust off the wood. "I mean, if you _really_ wanted to look up my skirt Liet, you totally could have just asked."

Below him, there was a painful _thwonk_ when Toris accidentally hit his head on the top of the counter, followed by Lithuanian curses and a little laughter, before Poland decided to come down and help Toris rub at the bruise.

"The bathroom's kinda small for both of us, Liet. Do you really need the two of us in here to clean it?"

Lithuania moved towards the bathtub, rolling his eyes. "Yes Feliks, I need the both of us. We should both get into the tub and-"

"Ooh, Liet, you wanna-"

"-_And_ we can save water by washing the tiles and the tub at the same time," he finished, smacking the blond on the arm before climbing in. Poland wrinkled his nose, frowning at the dusty ceramic thing as he managed to heft his skirts up into a knot above his knees, taking the offered hand and stepping into the tub himself. "I suppose you wouldn't want to scrub the tub, so you can just soap up the tiled walls instead," Lithuania said, stretching to hand over the tile cleaning solution and a sponge for Poland, taking the same for himself and getting to work.

With their backs facing each other, the two of them idly talked about various things; the weather, how terrible the last World Meeting was, what Toris should make for dinner, if Feliks should paint his fingernails purple to match his toes, or if pink would be more tasteful. It was all going rather well until-

"OHMYGOSH LIET, SHIT, COME LOOK AT THIS-"

Scrambling around, trying to grip at the soapy edges of the tub, Lithuania ended up slipping, his legs sprawling against Poland's, effectively knocking _him_ down, sending the shower head which he'd had in his hands into the air. And with Poland's hands flailing about for purchase, one of them conveniently hit the tap which, of course, was set to douse the two of them in streams of icy cold water. The tap had been on "high", which meant a few more minutes of flailing about ("OW LIET, MY NOSE!") for the shower head which had seemingly taken on a life of it's own, before another slip had Toris' hands pushed against the tap once more, this time, thankfully stopping the stream of water.

Thoroughly soaked through and exhausted, Lithuania rested his head on the closest thing, which happened to be Poland's left shoulder. "So... Yeah. W-What was it that you wanted me to look at?" The question was followed by a long, loaded silence. If Lithuania hadn't been able to hear the laboured breath of the man beneath him, propped up against the side of the bathtub, he might even have suspected that Poland had somehow been injured in their little... Flailing fight.

"Poland?" He asked again, pushing himself up with the help of the sides of the tub, frowning at the blond in front of him (nose slightly red now, _I wonder how that happened_).

Laughing, Poland rubbed the back of his head (_Oh damn, I didn't knock him against the tap did I...?_), grinning sheepishly, or at least, as close to sheepish as Poland could get.

"I wanted to surprise you with the water, but..." Another bout of laughter and _that grin which he knew Toris couldn't resist_. "Yeah. Stuff happens, eh Liet?"

Lithuania stared at him for a a few seconds, before burying his head into Poland's soaked shoulder once again. "Oh god," he mumbled into the fabric, "What am I going to do with you."

"Well," Poland quipped, a hand coming up to rub at Lithuania's head (where he was pretty sure he must have hit just now), "Your life would be totally boring then."

A muffled laugh escaped, causing Poland to grin as well, his fingers tangling into the wet brown hair.

"At least the bathtub and walls and junk are like, totally clean now, right?"

"I l'ke, sr's'ry d'n't 'hink t'ht-"

"Don't speak with clothes pegs in your mouth," grinned Lithuania from the other side of the washing line, clipping the last corner of their bedsheet to the line.

With a mouth full of wooden pegs, Poland attempted glowering menacingly at his friend, only have Lithuania laugh at the sight of him, resulting in Poland spitting out all the pegs onto the grass, grinning triumphantly back.

"I told you that you should have put them into your pockets, you know," Lithuania reminded, starting on their pillowcases.

"Mouth was like, so much easier."

"And it made you sound like Sweden," laughed Toris. "And what were you 'seriously thinking' about?"

"That it's a totally silly idea to hang up our wet sheets and junk at like, four in the _evening_," Poland pointed out, seated on the grass between two lines of sheets, absently fiddling with the wooden pegs.

"It's _summer_, Feliks," Toris stated, shielding his eyes from the afternoon sun. "The sheets would get dry in no time." The blond didn't move a muscle.

Knowing that it'd be far more effort than it was worth, Lithuania left Poland on the ground as he finished up the last few pieces of laundry, simply stepping around him when needed, humming to himself absently. The next time he turned around, Poland is sprawled face-up on the freshly cut grass (something Lithuania _knew_ Poland would never want to do, so he just went ahead and mowed the lawn himself the day before), eyes closed and smiling.

Instinctively, Lithuania smiled too.

"Penny for your thoughts? You know, other than not wanting to clean," He joked, sitting down beside his friend, toying with the grass near Poland's forearm, leaving him utterly unprepared for that same arm to suddenly yank him down.

"Wha-"

"Just lie down, 'kay Liet? Just for a second."

Suspicious, Lithuania inched his back down from the odd angling of Poland's earlier tug, coming to lie right beside him.

"... Now what?"

"Close your eyes."

"Poland, I don't see why-"

A hand came up to clumsily place itself over the brunette's lips. "Shhhhhh. You like, _totally_ talk too much, Liet. That's why you can't feel it." Lithuania shook the hand from his mouth. "Feel what?"

"Like we're back in the fields."

Toris was about to comment again, on how a summer's day in their small, grass-filled backyard with sheets around them, and Poland in a wench's skirt could in no way translate back into those seemingly endless days in those stalks of gold which smelled like the earth and the sun and _nothing_ like freshly-cut grass, fabric softener and detergent.

Poland's hand grasped at Lithuania's own, as he whispered, a smile still on his face. "Just try."

And so he did.

"No!" Poland cried.

"Yes," Lithuania calmly said.

"No." Poland growled.

"Yes," Lithuania repeated.

"No!" Poland pouted.

"No?" Lithuania asked.

"Yes." Poland muttered.

"So yes then," the brunette joked, pulling the closet door open. "Try like, _hell no_, Liet," Poland frowned, cocking his hip to push the door back. "_Hell no_ as in 'hell no, of course I'm not going _throw anything out_," he spat the words as if they were synonymous with the devil and hell-fire, "of my closet', okay?"

Rooting around in the seemingly endless space for a while, Lithuania resurfaced with a pair of holey black tights. Holey as in, I-have-been-eaten-by-moths-holey, not mm-yeah-I-tore-these-to-show-off-my-legs-holey, the latter of which, could be expected of Poland. "Poland, I really don't think you'll ever want to wear these, right? Just... Take a look and _maybe_ if you see something past usable, just throw it out? Please, Feliks? The closet," he gestured to the large, once-sturdy-but-now-dipping-around-the-middle-wooden frame, "will probably collapse -with your stuff in it- if we don't do something."

_Maybe I exaggerated a little,_ Lithuania considered, eyeing the blond who was chewing his lip and considering the piece of furniture.

"Fine. But like, no promises, okay Liet?"

With Feliks, Toris had learned to embrace the small victories in life. So sitting back on the foot of their bed, grinning at Poland fumbling around the closet with the warm, evening sunshine streaming through the windows, he felt pretty damn good.

That is, until a sword came flying out at him, courtesy of Poland.

"P-POLAND!" He cried out, gripping the (thankfully sheathed) blade. "What? It was sheathed! Totally safe Liet, you worry too much. And do you remember where that's from?"

While telling his heart that now would be a good time to slow down again, Lithuania squinted at the sword. "Looks... Old." Poland's snort could be heard, even with his head still inside the closet. "Well _duh_. I mean, _we're_ kinda pretty old. And it's not like you can see people waving that kind of thing around now today," he pointed out.

"It's from the Battle of Tannenburg," Poland grinned, tapping the hilt with a finger. "Y'know, one of the ones Prussia sent over before the battle. Pfft, idiot." As he turned back to the closet, Lithuania remembered.

_"So like, what do we do with these then?" Poland had grinned, waving to the two swords in the corner while pushing a mug of mead towards Lithuania, who shrugged._

"Weeeell, I _was thinking that we should totally keep them. Wave them in front of that Teutonic bastard every once in a while to, heh, you know, _remind him that we totally kicked his ass?_" Triumphant laughter followed as Poland slammed down his mug. It's not like Lithuania could blame the guy. There was a certain amount of thrill in beating the Teutonic Order up, especially when he'd been so utterly sure of himself._

"Sure," Lithuania agreed rather amicably. "I'll keep mine if you keep yours."

"So how do I look?" Looking up from the sheath, there was Poland in all of his his fully-suited, black fedora and handle-bar moustache glory, frilled pink parasol in hand. Lithuania couldn't help but to double over, laughing.

"N-Nn..." He gasped, grinning, "_No_, Poland. Never again."

"Whaaaat, I mean, Ukraine was totally kissed silly and junk by Canada right? Just like I promised," the blond giggled, twirling the moustache while considering the wardrobe once more. Two seconds later, a large, blue tri-corn hat lined in gold, complete with plumage in an assortment of colours, came flying at him. Instinctively, Toris caught it and waited (because as Feliks always said, "there is more to an outfit than like, just _one_ accessory, no matter how fantabulous it is"; similarly, there was definitely more to this than _just_ a hat). A white dress shirt, breeches, boots, and a large coat in a similar shade of blue, followed.

"Strip, Liet," Poland commanded, whirling around, still twirling the moustache, smirk well-placed.

Toris simply raised an eyebrow. He wasn't going to _strip_ on command, not even for Feliks.

"C'mon Liet, get changed," Poland supplemented, as if he thought the reason for the lack of action was because he wasn't clear enough.

"_Why_, Feliks?"

"'Cause like, it'd be fun." He reasoned, which was _definitely_ not reason enough for Lithuania to strip and change into a _pirate's costume_ of all things. "Please?" Then Poland decided to pull out the big guns, and the brunette could slowly feel his resolve melt into a puddle of... Of...

_... Stupid Feliks who knows my stupid weakness for his stupid smile which- Which does- D-Does _things _to my heart which should be completely _illegal _I tell you._

Simultaneously mumbling his disapproval and assent, Lithuania pulled the hem of his top out of his pants, removing the t-shirt and shrugging into the white dress-shirt. _Only Poland would be able to make me strip in mid-evening to wear a _pirate costume, he thought to himself a little grudgingly..

"Why do you even _have_ a costume like this anyway?"

With a non-committal shrug, Poland emerged from the closet, once again in his layered green skirts and white, off-shoulder top. "Traded it with England once, when he was drunk. He took this little black apron and collar-piece thing with a black bow-tie thing on it. I mean, I thought I _totally_ got the better end of the deal," he grinned, plopping the large hat on Lithuania's head.

As the brunette straightened awkwardly in the boots, he tugged at the coat, feeling just a _little_ odd to be wearing something like this. And it wasn't even Halloween. "May I change out now? Feliks," he sighed, rubbing his temples and frowning at the blond who was still staring at him, "we still have the attic and basement to go through and those are the ones that would need the most-"

Cut off by Poland literally pouncing on him, Lithuania found himself on the bed, tri-corn hat askew, and Poland still staring at him, grinning like a cat which got the cream, as he silenced him with a kiss.

"Well Liet," Poland started off conversationally, as if they weren't dressed up and on the bed, and instead in the kitchen having tea or something. "Sometimes, you just totally need to relax. You worry too much," he stated, pressing kisses to Lithuania's neck, which was _really_ messing with his coherent thought.

"So since you're the _pirate_," he announced, righting the hat, "I, as your wench," he grinned, frothing up his skirt to sit more comfortably on Lithuania's lap, "will totally be willing to _help_ you _relax_, mmkay?"

Through the haze of kisses and hands unbuttoning the shirt, Toris managed to choke out a protest. "B-But dinner? And the attic and the-"

Being cut off by kisses, Lithuania thought, really shouldn't be this pleasant. "We'll let the... Serving maids to take care of that," he winked, and the comment that Poland, as the wench, _really was one of the serving maids_ died on his lips. "Aye, captain?"

And as Poland's hands really were doing _extremely pleasurable things_, Lithuania decided to officially abandon rational thought of planned meals and a clean house, because why have _that_ when he had _this_?

"A-Aye," he laughed, just a tad breathless, before flipping them over and kissing a _very_ pleased Poland.

**A/N:**  
- Faworki are a kind of Polish desert. Twists of pastry covered with powdered sugar.  
- The Battle of Tannenburg (Grunwald) was fought by the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth against the Teutonic Order in 1410. These two pretty much crushed Teutonic forces. The swords were a reference to two swords sent by the Order to the Polish king and Lithuanian Grand Duke to "raise the Polish desire for battle", apparently. Info on the sword thing found here, which was also inspiration for that section of the story.  
- Lithuania was really humming an old Lithuanian working songs, folk songs sang by those working in the fields and such, which was what brought on Poland's sudden bout of nostalgia.  
-_ Ukraine was totally kissed silly and junk by Canada right? Just like I promised_ and that whole suit-and-parasol thing was a reference to this other story of mine where Poland helps Ukraine snag Canada. Admittedly, a lot more crack-y of a story than this one.  
- Holy shit this was a lot longer than I expected. A new record! 3.1k words, heh. Hope you enjoyed the story, I'd love to hear what you thought of it.


End file.
